Caren Krutsinger Poet Lyric

Song of the Women

Loret, our lovely lithe flutist called the rest of us to the woods 
with her charming tune.
Melody called 'Song of the Women', 
it was uplifting and cheery; a break from our daily work.
Where are mamas and grandmas? 
A new one to the fairy forest asked. 
We laughed.
The older crones no longer hear this kind of music, 
so beaten down by daily drudgery.

We congregated in the woods, 
admiring her handiwork, settling down to commune
The oldest, the youngest, the first born, the middle born; 
we had youth in common.
We were all tired of being bossed around by our daddy’s wives, 
some of us griped a bit.
My ma is so bossy, Delva said. 
The rest of us agreed, but not aloud; we were afraid of her mother.

They will be looking for us soon, Christette whispered; 
we knew this was the truth.
Cooking, cleaning, baking, slaving over loads of laundry, 
we were all getting worn out.
Maybe we should have asked to go to war with the men, 
Loret suggested. This made us laugh.
It was the first laugh of the first meeting 
of the young female faerie society, but not the last.

We stayed out there for a full twenty minutes are so, 
until guilt pulled us back inside
To help our mothers and grandmothers 
do all of the jobs that needed repeated daily.
What drudgery we thought. 
Not realizing we would never get over this thought. 
We began meeting monthly, 
pulled out of our houses by the lovely melody 'Song of the Women'.

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